


Enter At Your Own Risk

by SuiGeneris221B



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:19:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuiGeneris221B/pseuds/SuiGeneris221B
Summary: Phryne, Mac, and Dot have a women's day in and bond over tea and chocolate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is...something? There's no real plot as my brain just needed to get something out so I could finish working on another story. So blame hormones and a healthy supply of chocolate. (Except you can't blame chocolate because it's perfect.)

“Did you eat the last of the biscuits?”

“No, you did. Or don't you remember slapping my hand away when I attempted to reach for one?”

“I don't think the aspirin is working. I need a bigger hot water bottle.”

The three women in the parlor of the house in St. Kilda were cranky. Not at each other, but at the world in general. They were each being visited by their monthly blessing and suffering from sugar and salt cravings (Phryne and Mac), cramps (Dot) and irritating husbands (again Dot) and desperate to get away from the general public as a whole. After Mr. Butler had supplied them with a variety of treats, he wisely retreated to the pictures, not feeling particularly masochistic that day.

“Hand me that box of chocolate.” Phryne glared at Mac.

“Do I look like your servant? Get off your lazy behind and get it yourself!” Mac kicked her legs over the arm of the chair and returned the glare.

The groan from the chaise caused them both to turn their attention to Dot, who'd curled in on herself due to abdominal pain. 

“Poor Dot.” Phryne genuinely looked at her in sympathy. “Keep that hot water bottle on your stomach. Hopefully the warmth will start helping very soon.”

“Yes, Miss. The sooner the better as far as I'm concerned.”

Mac reached out for the thermos of chamomile tea and poured some into a cup. “Here, this should help.”

“You'll give her tea but won't give me chocolate?”

“She's in pain. You're just my pain.” Mac batted her eyelashes at Phryne in mock innocence. Phryne responded with a rude hand gesture which made Mac laugh.

Dot forced her eyes open. “This pain is not as bad as yesterday. But then, I wasn't nearly as annoyed yesterday, especially after trying to get the wash from the line this morning and listening to Hugh whinge about me not ironing his shirts yet. This, after darning his socks, getting the stain out of his uniform which I swear was ground in, finding his cuff links which he loses every other day, and not throwing the teapot at him when he complained that his tea wasn't hot enough. Not hot enough?! AS IF I WOULD EVER SERVE LUKEWARM TEA!” Dot sat bolt upright on the lounge during her rant but collapsed backwards when she'd finished.

Phryne saluted Dot with her glass of whiskey. It was five o'clock somewhere. “Make him sleep on the sofa tonight, Dot. A back ache for a stomach ache is only fair.”

“Don't think I haven't considered it, Miss. But then I lie there thinking about him being cold and lonely and having to go to work being upset and then what if something happened and I'm not ready to be a widow and – “ She suddenly burst into tears as her imagination got away from her. Mac smothered a grin, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and stood, handing it to Dot and patting the young woman on the head. 

“It's alright, dear girl. We're here and we'd take care of you no matter what.”

“Of course we would,” Phryne replied lovingly, “now dry your eyes and have some of this candy. It's absolutely divine.”

Mac looked at the bag suspiciously. “Didn't you buy that for Jack?”

“Yes, but he made another crack this morning about the speeding ticket I got last week and his punishment is no treats. Of any sort.” Her eyes flicked towards the stairs leading to her bedroom.

“At least not for another...three days?” Mac ticked off the time on her fingers. “Then I'm sure there will be sudden forgiveness.”

“I'm sorry, why did I invite you here, again?” Mac laughed again and even Dot hid her smile behind the handkerchief.

“Darling, without me, poor Dot would have to put up with the brunt of your fits and while I'm sure she's destined for sainthood, it won't be from dealing with your monthly hormonal swings.”

“And you're on an even keel? Do tell me again how Doctor Lansing didn't take all your notes for his latest medical journal article and give you no credit? Or how your last date at the Green Mill stepped all over your feet while dancing even though you'd spent a good deal of money on those new shoes?” Phyrne looked indignant. “No woman should destroy another woman's shoes, I don't care how in love you are. It's just rude.”

At that point, Mac poured herself a whiskey, in memory of those shoes. 

“Miss, have you seen the latest issue of Table Talk magazine? They say Ned Pritchard is going to appear live at 3JH to perform! It says his concert next month is sold out and he wanted to do a few songs on air for those who couldn't get tickets! Isn't that just lovely of him?” Dot sighed.

Phryne pictured the suave Mr. Pritchard in her mind's eye and raised one eyebrow. “Ah yes. He reminds me of a lover I had in Austria, once. Gustav took me skiing and the weather turned very nasty and we were trapped in a chalet for several days. The things he could do with whipped cream and his mouth....” She bit her lower lip, lost in a lustful recollection.

“Ladies, I think it's high time we discussed something far more important.” Mac sat forward in her chair trying to divert Phryne's trip down memory lane. “If the Adventuress Club is planning on sponsoring a team to the Melbourne Regatta again this year, we need to decide who is in charge of publicity. Melba Severensen completely fouled everything up last year and yet she's basically begging to get the job again this year. I vote no.”

Phryne stopped nibbling on her chocolate candy and kicked off her shoes. “Melba may be completely inept at publicity, but she's the only one with a brother-in-law with the brains to take us seriously. His paper was the only one that gave our team any recognition at all.”

“Maybe, but that paper has the circulation of a neighborhood block. We need to get into The Argus or The Globe and that's not going to happen with her in charge.” Mac frowned and took another slug of her drink.

Dot gingerly sat up and readjusted the hot water bottle. “What if we invited the reporters to a cocktail party? We could have all the members of the sailing team here, as well as pictures of their boat, and talk up how successful they've been in other races? My friend from Church, Doreen, knows someone who works at The Argus. She might be willing to put in a good word for us.”

“Brilliant, Dot!” Phryne managed to keep from launching herself out of her chair to kiss Dot on the forehead again.

“I agree, Dot. Maybe we should put you in charge of publicity.” Mac raised her glass in a salute.

Dot blushed and reached for her tea. “We still have to find somewhere to have the party.”

Phryne snorted. “Here, of course. I'll have to make up a menu for Mr. Butler. It will also give me an excuse to visit Madame Fleuri and have a new dress made.”

“As if you needed a party for a new frock.” Mac said under her breath, smiling.

“I heard that.” Phryne gave Mac side eye again.

They all sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts and enjoying their food and drink when they heard noises from the kitchen. Apparently Mr. Butler was back from the pictures and had brought Cec and Bert back with him. Or they'd followed him in, which was much more likely. 

Dot lay back down again. “Bert had better not get into the pound cake I baked yesterday. Last week I made gingerbread snaps to take to the ladies that help me arrange the flowers at Church and before I could get the snaps bagged up he'd eaten half of them. Just like that! The man has a hollow leg!”

“Most men do,” said Phryne. “I swear Jack has a bottomless stomach.”

“Don't get me started on how much Hugh can eat. Of course, I could probably get him away from the table now what with me serving lukewarm tea!” Dot wasn't about to let go of this bone just yet.

“I'm thankful this is a problem I won't be experiencing.” Mac looked like the cat that got the cream. 

Footsteps from the dining room caused Phryne and Mac to turn and see Hugh enter the parlor with Jack behind him, but keeping a safe distance.

“Good afternoon, ladies! And how are we?” Hugh was such a puppy, still.

“Mac and I are fine, Dot is enjoying a piping hot cup of tea.” Phryne went wicked. Hugh just looked confused.

“Ah, Dottie? If you're feeling better I thought we might head home early? I felt bad about complaining about my shirts this morning so I stopped by the bakery you like and got us a few sandwiches and some cake and thought we'd have a little picnic in the back garden.” 

Dot's expression thawed considerably and she sat up. “Yes, I would like that. If it's alright with you, Miss, I think we'll go home.”

“It's perfectly fine, Dot. Go home and have the joy of each other.” Dot's bashful grin made Phryne's smile widen and she watched as her friend took Hugh's hand and they retreated through the dining room.

“Well, if it's acceptable for people to start leaving, I'll be off myself.” Mac stood and retrieved her hat from the top of the piano. “I do believe I have a desire to go to the Green Mill tonight. There's a new bartender that caught my eye and she can make one brilliant sidecar.”

“She's not allowed to date you until I've met her.” Phryne pointed at Mac but there was fondness in her gaze.

“Yes, Mother.” Mac walked over to give Phryne a peck on the cheek and then gave the silent Jack, who had been leaning against the door, a pat on the arm. “She's all yours. _Vaya con Dios_.” With that blessing, Mac departed.

Jack looked at the detritus of the afternoon's impromptu party and then back at Phryne. “Am I allowed entrance to your sanctum or am I banished to an island until I'm properly chastened?” His eyes glittered with mirth but he wasn't brave enough to outwardly show it yet.

“Enter. If you dare.” She sat her glass of whiskey on the table and assumed a regal position in her chair as any Empress would.

Jack spread his hands in supplication and slowly walked towards her, not breaking eye contact.

“Those lips that Love's own hand did make  
Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate"  
To me that languished for her sake;  
But when she saw my woeful state,  
Straight in her heart did mercy come,  
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet,  
Was used in giving gentle doom,  
And taught it thus anew to greet:  
"I hate" she altered with an end,  
That followed it as gentle day,  
Doth follow night, who like a fiend  
From heaven to hell - is flown away.  
"I hate" from hate away she threw,  
And saved my life, saying "not you." 

Phryne stood and caressed Jack's face. “As if I could ever be that angry, Jack. Shakespeare really was being overly dramatic.”

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, kissing her softly. “So you won't be making me move into the guest room?”

“Afraid not, Inspector. I and my excellent driving skills will be here to make your life that much more exciting for years to come.”

“Good to know.” He gave her a smile she regarded as just for her and her alone. 

“I'm going to take some of these plates to the kitchen. No sense in making Mr. Butler's job that much more taxing.” Phryne picked up some of the dishes and gave Jack a wink.

Jack grabbed some of the food to help clean before noticing a particular sack amongst the leftovers. “Hey! Is this my candy?” 

Laughter echoed from the foyer as Phryne darted to the kitchen.


End file.
